The Spaces Between
by NerdyQueen4eva
Summary: An original story between the female reader's POV that alternates to third person. You've made a lot of mistakes in your life, and while the Winchester's certainly couldn't be classifed as such, you worried about the fact that you would probably never really get over Dean Winchester and your feelings for him. But like usual, everything you want in life jus gets screwed up more
1. Chapter 1

_Why, why?_ I'm thinking to myself, rolling over and trying to ignore the scream in my shoulder. I can't believe I'm already awake from another nightmare and the pain in my arm. The Oxy should have lasted me through the night. I try hard to look at the alarm clock, finally focusing on it saying its past 3 am. I'm wondering if I will even get back to sleep, but I doubt it. I find the fuzziest robe I own and pad quietly down the hallway and to one of the farthest bathrooms. I don't want to wake the brothers. Finally I push open the door to the bathroom, and I feel myself grin in girly happiness, scooting over to the large marble tub. I'm trying to sit down as best I can, but good lord that pain is fiery and fierce. _Where is that damn bubble soap,_ I wonder. _There it is!_ I cheer as I unload a good amount in the tub, turning on the hottest water I can stand. I stand up and let the robe fall to the floor, climbing in. _Oh god, it's so good_ I'm thinking, leaning against the back of the tub so that I'm completely submerged. My muscles are starting to relax, and damn it feels good. My eyes so heavy that they drift closed, memories filling my mind.

xxx

It was the silence that bothered you the most. It was late October, and the impala was driving around the curve of another road. The roads were wet, but not slick, the gentle bites of pre-snow were fogging up the windows.

You take another glance at the brothers, but still they said nothing. Sam you couldn't really read, even though you had a good view of his face. Dean, however was a different story. You didn't need to see him to feel the anger seething off of him. You pulled the hug around yourself even closer, wincing against the pain in your ribs. You try to bite down on your lip, not wanting to show any pain or discomfort, your head pounding loudly with the whooshing of blood in your eyes. BIG mistake considering you had forgotten your split lip.

Talk about a shitty hunt. It had seemed pretty straight forward, even for someone like you that hadn't been hunting long. The boys had come across a shape shifter case. They were still concerned you weren't ready, trying to insist you should hang back at the motel, or better yet, just stay at the bunker. But you hadn't listed, stubborn as always, telling them you felt up to it. You had even promised you'd do everything they said to a T. And while you certainly meant it, as usual, things didn't exactly allow for your promise to be kept.

You stared back out the window, resting your face against it in a vain attempt to cool off the pounding heat in your head. No sooner had you started to drift asleep than Dean's voice snapped at you.

"Hey, what the hell did I tell you?! Don't close your eyes, you have to stay awake."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, so hard they had the risk of popping out. All you could manage was a "Whatever, Dean." Another mistake, it would seem as Sam had to all but talk Dean down from going off on you.

The ride back to the motel had only grown more uncomfortable, and when you saw the hotel come into view you all but cheered out loud.

Dean threw the impala into park, and you quickly got yourself out of the car, despite your body screaming at you. You reached into your back pocket with your good arm, grabbing the hotel key. But before you could slip the key into the lock, Dean was on you.

"No, not happening. You've got a nasty concussion and you need to stay awake. You'll be in our room on the couch so I can make sure you stay awake."

You couldn't help but laugh at Dean. "Since when do you care, Dean?" you ask bitterly. "Just go fuck off."

Dean tried to grab you again but all he got was a face full of door. You ignored his pounding and yelling at you as you sulked over to the fridge and found one of those "frou-frou beers" as Dean had called it before flopping down on your all-too-firm bed. You knew he was right about the concussion, but since he was the one bringing it up it wasn't like your stubbornness would allow you to agree with him.

You were startled by the next pounding on your door, but it wasn't Dean's voice this time.

"Hey AL, come on let me in. I got the kit and you need cleaned up…"

You took a deep sigh, downing the rest of your drink before headed to the door.

"You alone, Sam?" you asked. It wasn't until he answered yes that you opened the door just enough for him to come in before locking the door behind him.

Sam didn't pay much attention has he unpacked the first aid kit and laid the bottle of whiskey on the bed. "Sam, really I'll be fine.." Sam had laughed despite himself.

"Like hell you will, you know as well as I do that arm will get infected if we don't get it taken care of…"

You knew Sam was right, and you were far more likely to agree with him than his idiot brother. You didn't say anything else as you tried peeling off your jacket, groaning at the effort. You knew you were screwed, your shoulder so swollen that you couldn't get it down over your arm. Sam took notice and grabbed the scissors, apologizing about cutting up your favorite jacket. Unfortunately you knew he didn't have much choice.

Even you were astounded at how bad the shoulder looked. It was oozing blood like no other, and the wound already looked infected. Sam guided you to the bed and encouraged you to take a swig of the whiskey while he grabbed some washcloths. You couldn't help but relax into the warm wetness it provided as he cleaned off the crusted blood.

You both stayed silent for what seemed like ages before Sam broke the silence.

"Listen, A..

You cut him off with a warning stare before he tried again.

"Look, AL..you shouldn't be beating yourself up over this. You did the best you could. Rookie mistake. God knows I've done my share."

You snort and then wince as the wash cloth comes into contact with the wound itself.

"I highly doubt that, considering how pissed your brother is. Besides, it was a stupid mistake."

 **You had all three been in the old house, guns trained for any momentary attack. Sam had taken the lead in front of you while Dean was in another part of the house. Suddenly Dean had rounded the corner, and you had cursed at him for scaring you enough to make him almost shoot him. Dean had only smiled at you before asking where Sam was.**

 **It wasn't until Sam came back into the room, gun leveled at Dean as he asked where his shot gun was, that you realized that Dean wasn't actually Dean, but the shape shifter. Before you'd even had a chance to raise your gun again, the shifter had picked you up by the throat and threw you into a wall. Suddenly the creature was on Sam before he could get off another shot, and was on top of Sam choking the life out of him right before the real Dean came into the room and shot him in the head.**

You're reverie was suddenly broken as Sam started stitching up the wound, gasping for air in pain as he worked as fast as he could. Before he gave you the chance to protest, he was pouring the whiskey over the wound to disinfect it. Sam muttered something about grabbing some antibiotics from his room before walking out.

You sat there in silence, rubbing your face with your good hand before you heard footsteps come back. You opened your eyes to find that this time it was Dean in front of you.

You let out a sigh before rolling your eyes and grunting at him. "What do you want?"

"I'm here to fix up that lip of yours. I'm better at it than Sam."

You didn't move as Dean grabbed a chair from the small dining table in your room, setting it right in front of you as he reached around you for the needle and thread. He didn't say a word as he used one hand to grab the washcloth in your lap and clean your lips, the other hand under your chin to hold you still. At that moment you were very glad that your labored breathing could have been interpreted as pain as you became acutely aware of his close proximity and the way he was so gentle in handling your face.

It hadn't taken him long to stitch up the lip, reminding you to take it easy on the alcohol because of your concussion.

"Listen, I know we're all pissed, but you really should come back to our room. I can keep an eye on you tonight so you don't fall asleep."

"The only ones pissed are you and me, Dean. And no, I can fend for myself in here, thanks." You had tried to make your voice as snappy as possible, but failed miserably.

"Ok look, we both said some things we didn't mean, and.."

"No," you cut him off. "I think we both said exactly what we mean."

Dean's face contorted hard, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by Sam coming back into your room with the bottle of antibiotics as promised. He grabbed the kit before giving Dean a knowing look.

"Fine, have it your way," he said before following Sam out.

Once they were both gone you peeled off the rest of your clothes before heading to the shower, enjoying the heat as it relaxed your muscles but wincing every time the water came into contact with your shoulder and lip. You washed your hair the best you could with your good arm, carefully removing the crusted blood from your long hair.

You put on the cleanest pair of sweats you could find before crawling into bed, turning the TV on to some weird sci-fi movie, cradling your second bottle of beer. Try as you might, you didn't keep your eyes open for long before you drifted off into a heavy sleep, thinking _aw fuck it_ before drifting off to a heavy sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

You were running again, the brush of the trees snapping against your legs and arms as you panted, heavy feet hitting the leafy ground. You could hear her shouting behind you, cursing you to high heaven. Tears streaked your face as you prayed to anyone who would listen that you would be fast enough this time. But nothing listened, and you found yourself falling to the ground in an exhausted heap. She was on you in an instant, kicking and punching you so hard it took your breath away, her litany of words never ending. "Stupid bitch, worthless, wish you were dead…"

You woke up gasping and sweaty to the sound of someone pounding on your door.

"AL, you awake in there?"

You mumbled to yourself as you climbed out of bed, turning on the lamp by your bed and raking a hand through your hair, clearing your throat so you didn't sound sleepy. "Yeah, Dean, I'm awake."

"Really? You sure you weren't sleeping?" You rolled our eyes again. "Yeah, jerkface, I am. I was just watching some crappy TV."

"You mind if I come in?" he asked softer this time. At this point you were too tired to argue, so you slid the lock open and stood there, trying not to stare at how sexy he looked in just his boxers and t-shirt. Despite yourself, you ushered him in.

"I thought I told you to watch the drinking," he said, head tilting to the empty beer bottles in the bed. You tried, unsuccessfully, to cross your arms over your chest. "And I thought I told you to mind your own business.."

Dean just looked at you, an odd look on his face that you couldn't read.

"Look I'm not here to argue, ok? I just wanna talk…"

"Talk about what?"

Now Dean was the one to rub his face. "Look, I'm sorry I got so mad earlier, I just…"

Look Dean, I get it, really I do…"

Dean gave you that absurdly cute, puzzled look he was famous for. But you continued anyway.

"Look, I've known it for a while, ok? And really, it's fine. If anything, tonight just proved my point."

Dean looked suddenly very uncomfortable, looking down at his hands. Was that a blush you saw, just barely hinted by the lamp by your bed? "You, uh..do?"

"Yeah, I do. Look I understand it, ok? Sam is your family. Cas and Bobby, too. And Charlie. But I'm not, and as much as I want my own family, it's just not here with you guys. And it just maybe won't ever happen."

"Wait, I uh…what?"

You pressed on. "Look Dean, I thought hunting was for me. I thought, with everything I'd been through, maybe I could find my way, maybe figure out who am I, find a purpose in this life. Make friends, find a family. But it's not gonna happen, if ever. You don't have room for a lot of friends, I get it man, this life doesn't exactly allow for it. All I'm saying, is that I'm tired of pretending to be something I'm not. And I'm tired of you two to pretend I'm something I'm obviously not. So I think we should just go our separate ways and end this before things get worse…"

Dean just stared, jaw set in a hard line, swallowing hard against his own voice. "Look, AL…"

You wave your hands to silence him. "Look, just go, please? I really just want to be alone."

Dean stood up, running his hands through his hair. "Ok, fine..but we're finishing this conversation in the morning…"

You only nod, looking down at the floor as you lead him out the door and hold it open for him. He tries once again to open his mouth and speak, but before he can you close the door in his face (albeit much softer this time) before sliding to the floor in a heap, back against the door as you try your damndest not to cry.

You sat there seemingly forever, before standing. You grab a t-shirt and your only hoodie, grimacing as you manage to pull them on. You grab your boots too before heading to the bathroom to gather up your gross clothes, wrinkling as you stuff them into a plastic bag. You then grabbed your phone, making sure it was on full power before stuffing the charger in your bag. You took a look around the room, eyes settling on the wall that separated your room from the Winchester's. You got misty eyed for a moment, sniffling as you picked up your bag and phone.

You headed for the door, whispering "Sorry, guys.." before headed out and away from the two biggest, best idiots, you'd ever known.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

(Musical credit: song by Linkin Park, "Heavy")

You pulled the hood of your sweatshirt up, pursing you lips and shivering against the cold. _Just my luck_ you mumbled to yourself, glancing around for a good car to jack.

Dean had laughed at you when you explained how you picked your cars. See, to you it was kind of simple. If people had expensive and fancy cars, they could obviously replace them a lot easier than someone who was down on their luck and had a crappy car; therefore you only stole the cars that were nice. You finally settled a gorgeous looking black Audi A4, wiring it easily and tossing your bag into the back. You remembered that a there was a crappy diner a few towns over, and a good hot meal was just the thing you needed.

You had settled on a juicy French dip, woofing it down with a large coke and then a beer. You had been in and out pretty quickly before getting back on the road, and by the time you left the diner it was starting to snow in large flakes.

Hands gripped tight on the wheel, your mind went racing on how everything in your life could have ended up so fucked, no matter how hard you tried. It was weird how the radio always seemed to know just the right song to play at the right time, and tonight was no different as the lyrics to Linkin Park played over the speakers.

I don't like my mind right now  
Stacking up problems that are so unnecessary  
Wish that I could slow things down  
I wanna let go but there's comfort in the panic  
And I drive myself crazy  
Thinking everything's about me  
Yeah I drive myself crazy  
'Cause I can't escape the gravity

I'm holding on  
Why is everything so heavy?  
Holding on  
To so much more than I can carry  
I keep dragging around what's bringing me down  
If I just let go, I'd be set free  
Holding on

You grip the wheel tighter in your right hand, left elbow propping on the window seal as you fight back the tears swelling up.

Why is everything so heavy?  
You say that I'm paranoid  
But I'm pretty sure the world is out to get me  
It's not like I make the choice  
To let my mind stay so fucking messy  
I know I'm not the center of the universe  
But you keep spinning round me just the same  
I know I'm not the center of the universe  
But you keep spinning round me just the same

I'm holding on  
Why is everything so heavy?  
Holding on  
To so much more than I can carry  
I keep dragging around what's bringing me down  
If I just let go, I'd be set free  
Holding on  
Why is everything so heavy?

Needless to say you finally had to give up the fight, tears streaking down your face, gripping the wheel with both hands again as you tried to navigate the now slick roads. _How stupid_ , you thought bleakly. _How stupid to think you could ever really be a part of something. Or ever be someone's family._

The road seemed to wind on both steady and fast, until suddenly you began thinking that maybe that last beer was the tipping point, your eyes getting heavy and vision blurred between the buzz and the heavy snow. You blinked hard, giving your heat a quick shake to wave off the cobwebs. You turned the radio to full blast this time, trying to hum along through the lump in your throat in a vain attempt to stay awake.

It wasn't enough. Suddenly and before you could react, a deer had sprinted out from the woods, causing you to lock up on your breaks. But the patch of newly formed ice wasn't as forgiving as you would have hoped, and in the breath of an instant you found yourself heading straight into a tree, the impact seeming like it was one of those slow-motion movie scenes.

The sound of the blaring car horn was the next thing you heard after the resounding crash. You blinked your eyes against the heavy fog that rolled over you in a steady wave, trying to blink through the blurriness of your vision. Unable to keep your eyes open, you finally slumped over the wheel, your last thought being of the blood dripping down your cheeks.


End file.
